


Couple's Therapy

by froggy (therealfroggy)



Series: Striptease II [6]
Category: Prison Break
Genre: M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 14:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/610580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/froggy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>T-Bag and Abruzzi's relationship - or what passes for one - is strained at best. How will they cope with the addition of LJ to their mix?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Couple's Therapy

One – Never like you

“I don't like it when my bitches fuck around, Theodore.”

T-Bag grinned smugly and fisted a hand in Abruzzi's hair. The mobster was biting his way down T-Bag's throat, nipping and sucking aggressively at the tender skin; punctuating each sentence by teething the warm flesh.

“I wasn't fuckin' anythin', John,” T-Bag said, adding a moan as the taller man latched on to his pulse point. “I was just demonstratin' the proper conduction of a blowjob. 'Sides, you had him bent over three days later.”

“As a matter of fact, my cock went nowhere near that boy,” Abruzzi said, holding T-Bag's body down in the grass with his own.

“Liar,” T-Bag teased, his tongue playing with Abruzzi's earlobe.

“Fuck you, Teddy,” Abruzzi breathed, momentarily distracted by the way naked skin was sliding as T-Bag bucked his hips up against the mobster's. “I didn't fuck him. Want me to show you what I did?”

T-Bag's moan was a begging yes to Abruzzi's ears. Pulling slightly away from the writhing body in the grass, he placed his middle finger against the smaller man's lips. T-Bag eagerly accepted the digit into his mouth, tongue swirling around it, and sucked lightly. Abruzzi groaned and slipped his fingers into T-Bag's mouth, one by one, until they were all slick from the Alabamian's hot mouth.

Feeling T-Bag's panting breath on his neck, Abruzzi reached down and slowly slid a finger into the man beneath him. T-Bag arched off the ground and gave a whimper. As three fingers entered him on the second thrust of Abruzzi's hand, the murderer gave a cry of pained pleasure and clutched the broad shoulders above him.

“This is what I did to the kid,” Abruzzi hissed in T-Bag's ear, thrusting his fingers slowly in and out. “I fucked him like this until he was begging for more.”

“More,” T-Bag gasped, echoing the man stealing his mind with three skilful fingers.

“And when he begged, like you do now... I stroked his cock until he came.” Abruzzi was whispering in T-Bag's ear, tongue darting out to caress the shell of it.

“You want me to fuck you until you come, too? You want me to do you like I did the kid?”

T-Bag bucked his hips against Abruzzi's hand, whimpering. “John,” he moaned, “harder! Not like you did the kid. Harder.”

Abruzzi groaned and pulled back, replacing his fingers with his cock at T-Bag's opening. As he started pushing into the begging man beneath him, Abruzzi couldn't stop himself.

“I didn't fuck the kid. But he wasn't begging like you are now, Teddy. He wasn't my bitch like you are.”

T-Bag bit his lip hard and slung a hand up around Abruzzi's neck, pulling the open lips of the taller man down to his own. Wordlessly pleading with Abruzzi to push him over the edge, T-Bag moaned into the mouth of the man above him and curled his legs up around Abruzzi's hips.

“Fuck me,” T-Bag moaned as the mobster started thrusting into him, his rhythm mercilessly hard and slow.

They never did this. Face to face, kissing; they never did it. But Abruzzi loved it. T-Bag was tense; so much tighter than Abruzzi could stand. His head was thrashing from side to side, his mouth open in a never-ending whimper. _So weak_ and Abruzzi had to kiss him.

“That's right,” Abruzzi hissed, his body coming flush up against T-Bag's. “Beg for it.”

T-Bag didn't beg any more, not with words. He moaned, writhed, arched, whimpered until Abruzzi's head was spinning and he couldn't tell where their bodies came together or came apart. Groaning loudly in the morning air, Abruzzi rammed into T-Bag twice more and came, pumping his release into the shivering body beneath his.

“No,” T-Bag whined as the taller man slowly came to rest within him, feeling wet heat spread between them. “John, c'mon now, don't -”

Abruzzi bit down hard on the ridge of his shoulder, causing T-Bag to cry out in pleasure. When the smaller man started clawing on his back, Abruzzi pulled himself out before dipping his head to fasten his lips over the Alabamian's nipple.

“Please,” T-Bag panted, “John, please.”

And Abruzzi complied. Backing away from T-Bag's face, he dusted hip bones and thighs with nipping kisses before pausing over the murderer's straining erection. When his mouth engulfed T-Bag wetly, his ears filled with the sounds of T-Bag; weak, needy, desperate.

“John! Christ, John, oh fuck!” T-Bag struggled to breathe; struggled to feel anything but a hot mouth demanding everything he was. Keening with pleasure, he gave in and came hard in Abruzzi's mouth. He shivered in aftershocks as he felt the taller man swallow around him.

“I won't ever fuck the kid like I do you, Theodore,” Abruzzi rumbled in his ear, causing T-Bag to tilt his head to one side, offering his neck to the roving lips of the mobster.

“Well, that don't mean we can't include him in our little understandin' here,” T-Bag rasped, throat dry. “What, Johnny Boy, ya don't think our relationship can handle him?” This with a snicker.

Abruzzi snorted. “This ´relationship` shouldn't have problems handling anything, Theodore. Or have you forgotten when you sucked Sink's brains out? Or when I fucked Fish?”

Theodore's sensual purr told Abruzzi he had most definitely not forgotten. “My memory's _very_ good, John; I ain't forgotten a thang. I was just wonderin', maybe you'd just decide to go a-grazin' in greener pastures, know what I'm sayin'?”

Silence. Abruzzi was trying to convince himself he'd not just heard that.

“I won't,” he finally said, lying there on his back in the grass.

T-Bag looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Not that I care, mister Mafia,” he said, voice crushingly casual. “You're free to graze every hair off Fish's ass, an' that pretty lil' kid's, too. My only concern is, who'd keep the camp awake durin' the night.”

Abruzzi snorted a laugh. “Remind me to gag you the next time.”

“So that was me growlin' my lungs out yesterday when my tongue -”

“Shut the fuck up, Bagwell, before I loosen that tongue a lot more than necessary.”

“Easy, Johnny boy,” T-Bag said, grinning like his whiskers were dripping with cream. “We both know you an' I won't ever get out of this. You can try all you want; there ain't no gettin' away from our ´relationship`. So why don't ya just lean back an' enjoy the ride?”

Abruzzi didn't reply or move until he felt T-Bag's lips close teasingly over his nipple. “God damn it, Theodore, you're a -”

“A god damn nymphomaniac,” T-Bag interrupted, smirking evilly. “Like you wouldn't be rapin' me twice a day if I wasn't.”

And as nails trailed sharply down his chest, John Abruzzi forced all thoughts of shame and love out of his head, because T-Bag was here, right now, and that sinfully agile tongue was wreaking havoc with everything he'd ever been.

 

Two – Target Practice

“What're you doing, LJ?”

LJ looked up from where he was bent over the radio, refitting the battery cap. “Trying to get this thing to work. Seeing as no-one's gonna let me borrow some music.”

Lincoln's jaw tightened visibly. “We don't have any music that doesn't make people behave like idiots.”

LJ laughed. Not two days ago, he'd found a small CD player and some batteries by Michael's sleeping bag. But before he'd been able to put any music on – there were four CD's there, too – Lincoln had noticed what he was doing and snatched the CD's away, swearing. But the CD player had a radio built in, and LJ was determined to at least make the radio work.

Grinning at his dad, he pressed a button. Crackling noise wailed from the speakers, and LJ quickly turned the tuner until he found some agreeable sound.

“Yes!” Music, endurable reception. LJ turned the volume up and sat back. He felt like he'd been slowly going nuts with the lack of music. He was, after all, a teenager.

“Turn that up a bit,” a Southern lilt commanded. LJ did.

_... Lord, I'm coming home to you  
Sweet home Alabama (oh sweet home, yeah)  
Where the skies are so blue (and the governor's true)  
Sweet home Alabama  
Lord, I'm coming home to you_

The song was fading, an annoying voice saying something in Spanish about Lynyrd Skynyrd, but T-Bag was smiling like he'd gotten a good lay not an hour ago (LJ figured he had, but didn't comment on it).

“Home sweet home. Almost 'nuff to give a man homesickness.”

LJ glanced sideways at his dad before saying softly, “But you're not leaving just yet, right?”

T-Bag's tongue twisted between his lips. He sat down on the ground next to the boy. “I sure ain't, if you're suggestin' what I think ya might be.”

Lincoln was over by the cooking fire, at least ten yards away, but LJ still kept his voice down as he asked what he'd been trying not to think about for the past week. “I want you to... tutour me.”

T-Bag was grinning rather nastily by the time LJ bit his lip, nervously waiting for an answer.

“Do ya, now?” the Alabamian grinned, licking his lips smugly. “That can be arranged. But, uh, I think we might be needin' a prop for... practice.”

LJ flinched. _What the hell is he talking about?_

“I'll see ya tonight, then,” T-Bag continued, getting to his feet. “We'll go swimmin'.”

***

“Dad, I'm going for a swim. See you later!”

LJ walked off without waiting for an answer. He knew T-Bag was waiting for him on the beach; him and his “prop”, whatever that was. Checking again to make sure the small plastic tube was in his pocket – he'd gone and bought his own just in case – LJ made his way through the small patch of trees closest to the beach.

“See, I told ya I'd get a practice target,” T-Bag greeted as LJ drew nearer. He was leaning on a tree, wearing only a pair of worn jeans. LJ had no clue how the Alabamian could stand the heat in those.

But, _oh. Target, okay._

Abruzzi was lying in the sand, leaning on one elbow, his shorts' and shirt's colours contrasting strongly with the pale sand. He was smirking slightly; just looking at LJ with those piercing eyes and smirking.

“Now don't worry, boi,” T-Bag drawled. “This ain't gonna get funny or anythin'. You just take some clothes off an' relax, and we'll get started.”

Swallowing nervously, LJ pulled his tee shirt over his head, then kicked off his flip-flops and stepped slowly closer to the two men.

“I want to learn,” LJ said, licking his lips. “Everything.”

Abruzzi sat up and looked at T-Bag. “Here, boy.”

T-Bag swaggered past LJ and slid to his knees in the sand close to Abruzzi. LJ padded closer, slowly. His stomach was doing somersaults, but the blatant hunger and interest in both men's eyes set LJ's blood racing. He sank slowly to his knees in the sand a foot away from the two men.

“I figured, since you're a bit inexperienced, I'm-a show ya a few tricks,” T-Bag said, reaching out to playfully ruffle LJ's hair.

“Less talking, more action, Theodore,” Abruzzi rasped, still looking at LJ. The way he said T-Bag's name; the pure _ownership_ in his voice caressing three syllables; LJ couldn't think of anything but what these two men shared that made a convicted murderer obey every least command of an ex mob boss.

“Undress him, kid,” T-Bag said, grinning at Abruzzi. “Start with the shirt.”

LJ, nibbling nervously on his lower lip, timidly reached for the top button of Abruzzi's shirt. One by one the buttons came loose under slender fingers until the shirt was completely open. Abruzzi allowed LJ to remove the garment from his shoulders before reaching for the mobster's belt.

“Now this is where that pretty lil' mouth o' yours comes into play,” T-Bag said, swatting LJ's hands away. Then he dipped low until his lips were level with Abruzzi's belt buckle. LJ watched, eager and desperate, as T-Bag slowly slid the belt out of its hoops using only his teeth.

“Now you go,” the murderer said, moving up to bite lightly at Abruzzi's throat before sitting back to make room for LJ.

LJ leaned forwards until he could take the button of Abruzzi's shorts into his mouth. Teeth and tongue fumbling about between his lips, he finally popped the button open and sat back. T-Bag obviously got impatient and pulled the zip down quickly by hand.

“Whatta ya say I teach ya how to do what I did to you? There are a few extra parts, though,” the Alabamian said, winking at LJ before pulling at Abruzzi's shorts. The mobster gave an almost inaudible groan as T-Bag clawed his shorts and boxers away, licking slowly over his hip bone while pulling the fabric down Abruzzi's thighs. LJ nodded.

“Then just do what I do,” T-Bag smirked. Without looking to make sure LJ was following, he leaned slowly forwards and placed his lips over Abruzzi's left nipple. LJ could see the mobster place a hand on the back of T-Bag's head, pressing him closer as it was obvious the murderer was putting his tongue to good work.

LJ quickly dipped his head forwards to copy the older man. Breathing in deeply the incredibly masculine scent of John Abruzzi, he licked slowly first, then latched on and started sucking. The mobster gave a little twitch as LJ's lips started sliding over his skin.

“Good boy,” Abruzzi moaned, feeling T-Bag rub against his leg. The boy was good, but he lacked Theodore's experience. Abruzzi simply leaned back and gave himself over to the contrasting sensations the boy and the man evoked; different yet resulting in the same thing – heated need making him ache for release.

“Now that we've got John Boy all riled up,” Theodore said, interrupting himself with a little nip to the mobster's skin, “'s time to get a lil' more serious.”

Dipping his head yet again, he started kissing lightly along Abruzzi's hip bone. LJ followed suit once again; tasting and licking the skin under his lips as his mouth learned the contours of that very sensitive part of Abruzzi's body. The man was breathing heavily under their combined efforts; controlling himself but obviously impatient.

“Don't stop now,” T-Bag muttered against Abruzzi's skin, making the taller man release a small groan. “Keep goin'. It's all in the tongue, kid.” Then he quickly took Abruzzi into his mouth; all the way down his throat until Abruzzi moaned helplessly in the dusk.

“Theodore,” the mobster moaned, “not yet!”

T-Bag pulled back, sucking to the very end. “Don't go deep-throatin' 'less ya know how,” he said, almost instructively. LJ would never have thought instructively could be so sexy. “Tongue, boi.”

LJ fastened a tentative hand around the base of Abruzzi's cock, then placed his lips at the tip. He licked hesitantly over the slit at the very end, probing the older man's reaction.

A breathless curse in Italian was his reward.

“Good,” T-Bag whispered in his ear, nipping a little at LJ's earlobe for good measure. “Now put your tongue on the underside, like. Put some movement an' suction in it.”

LJ hollowed his cheeks slightly, sucking. It felt clumsy when he did this while stroking the head of the cock in his mouth with his tongue, but Abruzzi was panting and LJ could feel T-Bag holding the mobster's hips down underneath him. He was bucking.

“C'mon, give up, John.” Faintly, LJ could hear T-Bag whisper commands in Abruzzi's ear, and the taller man's groans were increasing with each word. LJ sucked harder, focusing his efforts at the very tip of Abruzzi's cock.

“Jesus fucking Christ, kid,” Abruzzi moaned, “you trying to suck my cock off?”

T-Bag grinned. “He likes it. Don't stop.”

And LJ never slowed, or eased the pressure. Abruzzi was moaning, moving underneath him, surrendering. And when T-Bag bit hard where his shoulder joined his throat, Abruzzi gave a deep growl and came, shooting warm come into LJ's mouth, tickling the top of his throat. Again, LJ's body wanted to draw away, but he dutifully swallowed. His lust wanted to taste every drop.

“I believe that's an A plus on your first assignment, kid,” T-Bag drawled, all but nuzzling against Abruzzi's heaving chest. “Wouldn't you agree, John?”

“Bull's eye,” Abruzzi agreed, smirking at LJ. The latter blushed. Target practice, indeed.

 

Three – Not exactly sloppy seconds

“The Pretty.”

“Yeah, it's got to be.”

“'Course, could be Daddy got first taste.”

“Hardly. Sink may be putting up one hell of a show with his brother, but his son? Don't really see that.”

“I 'spose. We right, boi?”

LJ blushed. “That, um, kinda depends.”

T-Bag licked his lips, completely unabashed by his current state of nudity. “Depends? Boi, your ink pot been visited by more 'en one nib?”

Abruzzi laughed. As naked as the Alabamian, he clearly wasn't bothered by modesty either. LJ still had his shorts on and he was terribly conscious of the fact that he wore no boxer underneath them.

“Well, you didn't think I'd limit my experience to you two when I had the whole range to choose from, did you?” he said, attempting a grin.

Abruzzi laughed again. “I think he's taking after you, Theodore. Now come on, kid, who else?”

“Dad and uncle Mike. And Sucre.”

T-Bag was grinning rather nastily. “Sucre, eh? Looks like the _señorita's_ just as faggy as the rest of us.”

“Not really,” LJ shot back, feeling somehow obliged to defend the Puerto Rican. “I gave him a blow job. You don't have to be gay to enjoy a blow job.”

“I see your demonstration wasn't a complete waste of time, then, Theodore,” Abruzzi said, grinning. “What about the other guys?”

Now LJ started blushing for real. “Um, dad was, er... We fucked. And me and Michael, too.”

T-Bag's smirk was all but evil now. “They both been around quite a bit, boi. Who did what? Or, should I say, who did who?” The two men laughed. LJ felt slightly less embarrassed.

“I did Michael. Dad did me.”

Silence for a few seconds. Then T-Bag's eyes seemed to fire up somehow. “Ya'll be needin' somethin' to compare with, then. Take off them shorts, an' I'll provide ya with a lil' somethin'.”

Abruzzi's smile widened. LJ was blushing furiously, but as arousing as he'd found the experience of their little ´collaboration project`, he hadn't had any release of his own so far. Firmly telling himself to ignore the little voice that said this might not be such a good idea, LJ quickly shed his shorts and turned to T-Bag.

“Good boi,” T-Bag said, licking his lips. When his eyes caught sight of the small tube in LJ's hand, he laughed. “Apparently your uncle isn't the only one with brains. I promise I'll be gentle with ya. Now turn 'round an' bend over.”

Hesitantly, LJ did as he was told. When facing away from T-Bag on his hands and knees, he felt so incredibly exposed. The loss of control was almost overwhelming already.

When he felt a hot tongue on his skin right near the base of his spine, LJ jumped before settling. He had absolutely no idea what the murderer was about to do (although he had a pretty clear idea about what it would end in).

It disturbed him that he found this almost as arousing as the look in Abruzzi's eyes as the mobster watched the display unfolding in front of him.

The cool lubricant hit LJ's skin. He shivered when it was followed by two fingers, slowly stroking the moisturiser up and down over his entrance.

“I'm sure Daddy told ya what to do,” T-Bag said, slowly easing the very tip of a finger inside LJ. “Just relax an' let Teddy take care o' the rest.”

LJ couldn't help but moan softly as T-Bag's finger slid into him, not stopping until reaching the third knuckle. It was slick and cool and tingling; every sensation multiplied by the heated gaze of Abruzzi following their every move.

“You sure is tight, boi,” a Southern drawl stated, pulling the finger back out. “You certain that was your Daddy's cock an' not his fingers he had up your ass?”

LJ could only moan incoherently as a second finger began to join the first. The two digits were moving, thrusting, sliding inside him, and then T-Bag started hitting that spot. The one who made LJ's mind collapse into _oh God, oh holy shit_ and heat and _yes_!

“More,” he pleaded, aware that his voice came out a whimper but past caring. T-Bag gave a sound of appreciation and added a third finger, then a fourth. Long digits played with his opening, his prostate, his skin; LJ felt dizzy with sensation and thrust his hips back to meet T-Bag's hand.

“Whaddaya think, John Boy? He ready yet?” T-Bag said, coming up close until LJ could feel the heat of the older man's skin all along his own back and thighs.

“Fuck him, Theodore. If you don't fuck him right now, I'm doing it.”

Through the hot fog of pleasure emanating from those four fingers, LJ felt a sense of thrill that he was part of this. That grown, attractive men were finding him desirable, believing he could satisfy, _wanting_ him. He gave a whimper and pushed back fast as soon as T-Bag was in position behind him. The sting as the murderer entered him was there, but drowning under the onslaught of sexual energy.

“Fuck me,” LJ gritted out, testing his powers over the man behind him. T-Bag pushed forwards, hard, and pulled harshly on the boy's hips.

“What does it look like I'm doin'; calculatin' your taxes?” T-Bag said, the smirk glowing in his voice. Thrusting hard once, he rewarded LJ's scream of passion with angling his hips up so he brushed over _that_ spot again. LJ saw stars and the next sound that came out of him, was a long, carefully planned, whimpering moan.

“Jesus Christ.” The hoarse voice of Abruzzi washed over both LJ and T-Bag, making them groan in unison and T-Bag thrust harder, LJ pushed back. So incredibly different from what his father had felt like, T-bag was rough, wild,merciless. But just like Lincoln, the murderer was in control, strong, _giving_.

LJ's hands fisted in the dry grass, he arched his back and begged T-Bag for more. “Please!”

“How could I refuse,” the Alabamian panted, “with such nice manners?” Reaching around to fist the boy's straining erection, T-Bag licked wetly right between his shoulder blades, both of them bent over like dogs in heat. LJ started whimpering with abandon as a thumb stroke expertly over the head of his cock in rhythm with T-Bag's hard flesh as it slid into him.

“C'mon, boi, tell me how good Teddy makes ya feel,” T-Bag hissed in his ear, stroking faster.

LJ's breath caught in his throat, sobbed. “I'm gonna come,” he moaned, bucking against the murderer's hips. “Shit, I'm gonna -”

T-Bag gave a groan and thrust hard into the boy; releasing, pumping through his orgasm. LJ was already there, coming in spastic spurts over T-Bag's hand as his voice locked, his heart stopped. The world flipped and then there was just wet warmth, liquid lust spreading between them. T-Bag pulled out and moved away. LJ sank to the ground, feeling boneless.

“Really, John Boy, ya just couldn't wait.”

“Shut it, Theodore,” Abruzzi said pleasantly, kissing the smaller man roughly. His come was drying on his skin, evidence of just how arousing he'd found the show. T-Bag slowly started licking at the inside of Abruzzi's thigh, his tongue removing sticky traces.

“Wanna come help me clean this up?” T-Bag said, winking at LJ.

The latter groaned and rolled to his back in the grass. “Hell no. I don't think I'll ever move again.”

Abruzzi tangled his fingers in T-Bag's hair and pulled his face up. “Kid's right, Teddy. Save it for next time.”

T-Bag's answering snigger made LJ strongly doubt that his father would appreciate him joining in next time. And Abruzzi's knowing smirk confirmed LJ's suspicion that he was, indeed, invited.

LJ grinned. _Perfect._ As if things weren't complex enough already in Camp Sodomy. This should be good. This should really be fucking good.


End file.
